


Married or Buried in a Quality Suit

by Meldanya



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Female Friendship, Gen, Young Mac, genderqueer Mac, young Phryne
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 01:00:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14344659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meldanya/pseuds/Meldanya
Summary: 1922. A young Elizabeth MacMillan is sailing to England ready to start a new life, when she meets a friend from her old one.





	Married or Buried in a Quality Suit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gaslightgallows (hearts_blood)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_blood/gifts).



> A little Mac-centered ficlet for your birthday, Gaslight. I missed the previous two years, I wasn't missing this one <3

_ " a woman should dress first and foremost for her own pleasure. Having grown up in second-hand flannels, there is nothing quite so divine as the feel of silk underwear" _

 

She met Phryne Fisher again on the boat to England.

Her old friend's exuberance had only been heightened by the adventures she'd experienced in their years apart -- the war, Paris, plane crashes, Kilimanjaro -- daring escapes and dashing men swam through Mac’s head as she strove to keep the stories straight.

Money hadn't changed Phryne at all, as she bought Mac first-class cabin adjourning hers. 

Seven years ago, the roles had been reversed. Mac had been the one with the gorgeous dresses and the coming-out balls while Phryne had been Mrs. Stanley's impoverished niece. Now she was fleeing Australia without friends or family, with only a carefully hoarded amount of money. 

"Now, tell me, how on earth did you manage to escape from your mother's thumb -- I thought she'd have married you off long ago?"

“My wardrobe!”

Phryne glanced at Mac’s darned gloves.

“I sold everything,” she explained. “Anything worth anything: seven years of fine clothes, furs, jewellery. Gone. Got enough to support me through the start of my medical studies at least.”

“What on earth did your mother say?”

Mac grinned. “I don't know, I left before she realized. I'm sure to have a series of very angry telegrams once she tracks me down.”

“Meantime you’ll be across the globe.” Phryne laughed. "I always used to envy you all your pretty clothes."

"And I used to envy you yours --- you were allowed to get dirty at least."

* * *

When they reached London, Phryne swept her off shopping almost immediately. “I’ve been in East Africa for a year; I need to catch up on the fashions.”

Mac felt ill at-ease as everyone in the boutique fussed over them, in awe of Phryne's title and money. She had had enough of these types of shops with her mother; what was she doing here? 

“Now, let’s see if we can find a few suitable outfits for my friend here.”

She suddenly realized why Phryne had brought her along. “No, Phryne, really, please, I can’t let you --”

“Nonsense, you were the only reason I ever had a nice dress as a girl. I want to do this for you. You need a pretty dress.” 

“I’ve had enough pretty dresses to last a lifetime.”

Phryne waved her concerns aside as the store owner brought out a green dress.“Yes, that’s perfect; she’ll look wonderful in green.”

The dress had more beads than Mac ever wanted to wear again.  “No, Phryne, please. I don’t need dinner dresses,” she stammered.  “Yes, I know I need new clothes … but I was thinking more of a suit?”

“Ah, yes, I have several fine suits that would be perfect for your friend.” The owner purred.

Mac flushed, and ignored her, looking directly at her friend instead. “Not that type of suit. I want one with … trousers.”

She couldn’t quite believe she had said that aloud. Comprehension flooded Phryne’s faced and Mac sighed with relief. 

The store owner looked disgusted. Phryne barely gave her another glance as she said airily, “I think my friend and I are done shopping here for the day.”

Phryne took her best friend’s arm, “Come with me, I think I know just the place.”

* * *

In the tiny little tailor’s shop, no questions were asked, and she never asked any herself.

Phryne clapped at the final fitting for her new outfit: the trousers, the waistcoat, the jacket. Mac couldn’t believe how different it was.

As they stepped out onto the London streets together, Mac felt rather self-conscious, as the only woman in sight in men’s clothes. Phryne smiled at her and said, “You look simply wonderful, my old friend.”

Mac exhaled. “I think I’m … comfortable? Comfortable for the first time in my life.”  

New place. New life. She was never looking back.  
  
  



End file.
